Rolled a 16 for Saeranwen though, so take that as you like

As mentioned in the subject though, I've got no sheet handy to check the modifier. Pretty sure it's at least +2 though, I remember her having high dex. 

Eol said he was going to be out today; if it helps, rolled a 14 on the dice and I definitely don't have Ch'dau's sheet to look at

I mean, 18 str is far from common, especially in 2e

Ch’dau took a breath, carefully aligning his blade to the seam where the two door-panels met, then, with a quick glance at the others, asked; “Ready?"

Are we? Bit late to have doubts. You have them too. This is... strange, is all. Seems pretty straightforward, the way he puts it. Not that, you and me. Together. Here. Don't think about it. Okay, just focus... focus on what we need to do.

Aranwen breathed deeply, nodding her assent at Ch'dau as she felt the blade in her right hand. Her left hand met her right, wrapping around it and the hilt a moment, giving a light squeeze, before moving away.

As Ch'dau raised his falcata, Aranwen watched from behind.

Those muscles are very impressive, aren't they? I wasn't staring. Yeah, you were. Shush, I need to focus like we said.

Aranwen shook her head idly with a roll of her eyes, breathing a sigh. At Ch'dau's roar, she breathed in, feeling her muscles tense for the impact.

And the door was crushed.

Aranwen immediately moved in beside Ch'dau through the open door, stepping to his right as she scanned the room.

"You, who would claim the lives of others, others whom we would protect, we will not allow it," Aranwen spoke, her voice far softer, unheard underneath Ch'dau's declaration, until she began to sing...

Hmm... looking at this, you've made CC with 115 points so she's actually at PL 8 currently from the looks of it

As I said before though, I could certainly try to help scale down as needed. Main thing with CC is her shape shifting, after all. Everything else is cherries.

Maybe a blade will find its way into Aranwen's left hand...  

We meet the enemy, Aranwen took a breath, are... Are you with me? 

Aranwen felt her left hand reach around her, a light hug, Of course I am. 

Aranwen began to sing. Her tone was lonely, almost desperate at first. But then she heard the response, and her heart soared. For the first time in a while, she felt whole. No. Not quite whole. Saeriel's blade wasn't dancing with hers as she rushed forward, cutting into the line of skeletons with her bladesong.

Sae... Aranwen's eyes misted with tears. 

She felt her left hand lifted, and Aranwen winced as her arm caught the claws of the skeletons beside her, Ara, focus! We are in battle! 

Aranwen nodded, Of course. 

As they re engaged the enemy, she blinked as she saw a dagger fly past her. She's very accurate with those. Wonder where she learned such skills. But why is she alone? She's not; we're with her. But before that? ... 

Aranwen offered a warm smile to Kithran as she returned the dagger once more. As she rounded the corner of the hall with the skeletons dealt with, she saw the guards stationed there. She swore under her breath as her left arm moved, pulling her back behind the cover of the hallway as the bolts fired. 

Ara! You're bleeeing! 

Aranwen shook her head, This is nothing. You should see the other scars I've gotten. 

“There are about six of them ahead,” Aranwen said as Kithran approached, and she noticed fresh blood dripping from the bladesinger’s arm, “They all have swords, but they’re also armed with crossbows, and seem to be trigger-happy,” she glanced down at her arm, then back to Kith, “Ready?”

As they pressed into the hall, once Kithran had called out their opening, Aranwen's voice surged with determination as she raced after Ch'dau, quickly closing the distance to force the guards into melee. Between their combined efforts, they were unable to stop the group from reaching the door. 

Aranwen seemed to catch her breath when she overheard Kithran and Mosic speaking of his mind, and turned to the Falloes priest as well, “Was it Morgana? Did she attack you, Mosic?”

If she did, that's four of our five, Aranwen thought. 

Thankfully, that did not seem to be the case, and as the four of them regarded the door in front of them, the question came. 

"What's the plan?" 

Aranwen frowned, "Well, we have nothing to go on. So we must be open to adapt as things happen around us. She will still be protected, one way or another, by spell or guard. If we should rush her, we may be able to keep her from wielding her magic. If she's there, that is. It wouldn't be impossible for her to have fled," she mused.

"In short, if you see an opportunity, attack Adedre. Otherwise, stay sharp, and mind our surroundings."

"I know what makes them tick. I know how to make the ticking stop."

"Why do they keep breaking?" 

Just imagine Morgana with Oriana mannequins...  

Really, dear? I'd hope you had more faith in your [mistress's] investments.

My resources are greatly limited at this time and place, it's true. However, I do have... This... I trust Aranwen remembers these puppets

(on Kithran's dagger) 

That blade might have seriously wounded a lesser creature. But to me, it only gave some... Minor discomfort.

(on Adedre's death)

How inconvenient...

They're still wood... Their enchanted resilience cancels out the fire vulnerability to an extent, but respective to other damage types fire does more damage to them and so is a good choice to use  

If the Ch'doll's shade is used, it totally roars at Ch'dau. Which makes it look as if it came from his doll, with his full volume. 

Morgana has three pawns available to her

She's almost all but certain to attempt a sneak attack on Mosic with the Kith-doll's shade

She might tackle Ch'dau out of a charge at Adedre with the Ch'doll's shade

But she knows better to rely on the shades - after one or both of those she'll bring the three pawns together to swap them with one of her rook mannequins

Aranwen will immediately move to intercept it, knowing the danger it poses. She may need help though

Does that help?  

Our musically inclined Kithran might even have that nagging feeling of wanting to do the 'return' of the duet but, not knowing the song, she knows she can't.

"Are you trying to get me to sing along?" 

"Huh? Oh, no. That wasn't our intention."

"Oh... Then what are you doing?" 

*shrug* "We're kind of making it up as we go along to be honest. The song, that is. Aside that, still the same plan - we press forward to find your book on the next level."

Aranwen's song at this moment sounds a bit off - like duet of call and call back, but only she can hear the return, so to everyone else it's noticeable that it seems to be missing something.

The difference in song doesn't change her battle prowess or capabilities. Less noticeable is her left hand - it is her secondary hand, but it is being held and moves more as if it  were a primary hand.

Minor things that don't change anything in your lovely post

And now we are here...

I'll see what I can do about a post a bit later. Right now got to get moving to work

I've received no links

I'm quite flexible as far as level and setting goes - as long as I get enough to 'see' it in my mind, then I can work with it.

CC might be a bit more unorthodox than most given her powers, but she prefers a positive reputation as CC so you can be assured that she will at least do her best  

Have had high priority things at work lately. It has slow downs and speed ups and right now it's at a speed up phase... 

... And finish Aranwen's sword then  

I can do a lower PL... Just need the book to make the sheet  

Might be somewhere in my various files ... 

That being said, I might need something of a guide to suggested point allocation for the PL so that I'm not making a char that is too weak to function on accident

As to patrol route.... Uhhh... I don't know the layout of the city but I suspect it'd follow a route through various side streets and alleys while borrowing the form of a nondescript person to be discreet? 

First of all, that is one very adorable cat 

Secondly, just had the thought come to mind with respect to hold person and Kithran as if we were at a physical table. 

"I use hold Kithran."

"But Ara's not a spellcaster" 

"Nope, she's just trying to give Kithran a cool-down hug."

"Kithran stabs you"

"I have the hp to take that" 

PM is away

Sara blinked, initially surprised to meet someone that shared the same name she held, or at least one that sounded similar, but then recognition dawned on her, as she recalled one of the names Kithran had mentioned. One time, a time that felt so very long ago. Unconsciously, she offered Serah a warm smile, and she nodded, "It seems we share a similar name, Serah," Sara replied, "Though, I never would have imagined our paths crossing like this," she knew it had been a possibility, of course, but still didn't expect it to actually happen, "We share a common connection, a half-Syl with dark eyes and hair whose hands wander far too often for her own good…" her eyes went a bit distant in recollection. 

Serah's eyes seem to follow hers in some similar memory, before they grew wide in comprehension, "Kithran?” She grabbed Sara’s wrist, and a mix of hope and fear flit across her face, “You’re her bl-”

Sara lifted the index finger on her other hand to her lips, her eyes wide as she shook her head at Serah. Thankfully, it was Serena who spoke. 

“Serah,” Serena interrupted, attracting the attention of both women, and the small cleric looked back and forth between Serena and Sara before she remembered.

She nodded and dropped the Sylvari’s wrist, “Right, Randel had mentioned that.” She turned to the orange-haired girl, “Alice, thank you for bringing Sara here to us, she is the friend of an old friend. Do you mind giving us a moment?"

The younger maiden looked visibly deflated, but nodded all the same, “Yes, of course Serah. It was nice meeting you Sara,” she said to the Sylvari, laughter coming back to her eyes, “Find me if you need me.”

"I'd love to, hopefully some time a bit less pressing," Sara smiled in return as she waved to Alice. 

With Alice's departure, Serah hurried down the long, winding hallway, dipping quickly around corners, and bounding up stairs until finally they entered a small, simple room. A neatly made bed rested against the wall opposite the door, to the left a desk sat just below the window, a small wardrobe stood just to the left of the door, and on the wall to the right hung the crimson robes of a Laughing Maiden.

“Please, have a seat if you wish.” Serah gestured to the room at large, but leaned against a wall herself, “This is my room. I apologize for the lack of formality but,” a smirk formed at the side of her mouth, “this is Kithran we are talking about. The last we spoke she was in the tattered remains of a dress she had worn to a masquerade in Felarin.”

“And everyone knows not to disturb Serah when her door is closed,” Serena added as she took the chair in front of the desk.

Unbothered by the lack of formality, especially having spent as long as she had in Meadowbrook prior, Sara sat at the foot of the bed, bowing her head in thanks, "Thank you," she returned.

Serah’s smile grew, “I do appreciate my reading and my sleep.” She sighed suddenly, and the distress she had shown before returned, “So, you are, one of Kithran’s traveling companions, yes? You are the...” She made whistling sounds and stabbed at the air, “I am so glad to finally meet you, I never thought I would. And Kithran," she continued, hardly taking a breath between topics, "we haven’t heard from Randel since they went home to Stone's Hollow. Have you and the others found her yet?”

"I… was Aranwen, yes," Aranwen's face fell, shaking her head as the mirth faded from her golden eyes, her gaze falling to the floor, "There hasn't been any word. If anything, I had dared to hope you or any of the other Maidens might have had even a hint of where to try looking."

Serah shrugged defeatedly, "We're trying, but Antaron is enormous, and she did well to hide from us even before she had a mad cultist bitch controlling her." Anger began to well inside her again, imagining that disgusting woman's hold on their little darling.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to quell her frustration, and instead examined the bladesinger a little more closely, forcing away her own guilt and noticing now the pain on Sara's face, "Are you alright?"

Aranwen gave a smile, weaker than the one she originally gave Serah, "I…" she gave a long, shuddering sigh, "I would like to say so,” She replied, her eyes faded as she shook her head, “but I know otherwise. And I know… I know it shows."

“A little bit, yes.”

As she thought of what she wanted to do, how she wanted to be there with Ch’dau and the others once more, she held up her hands, which had begun to tremble at the thought of wielding a blade, "I can't even defend myself like this," she clenched her hands, as if her grip would be enough to stave off the shaking, before she sighed, letting her hands rest upon her lap. 

Serah fixated on them, frowning as they shook, and following them as they fell back into her lap. Without hesitation she crossed the small room and sat beside her, holding out her own hand, "May I?"

Aranwen blinked, following Serah’s movements as she sat beside her and tilting her head a bit, in unspoken question. She nodded, offering her hand to Serah. It was still, for the moment, without thoughts of battle at the forefront of her mind.

The maiden took the bladesinger’s hand into both of hers. She flipped it back and forth, pressing into her palm and her fingers, poking, prodding, evaluating the callouses, lifting her arm up and down, examining the way they moved, the years of training evident even while laying limp in her hands. Eventually, after confirming for herself that there was nothing seemingly outwardly wrong with them, Serah simply gave it a comforting squeeze, before looking back up at those sad, golden eyes of hers.

“Are you able to tell me what happened?” She smiled softly, keeping her hand in Sara’s, “I know what happened, at least all Randel could make of it, but what happened here?” She held her hand up, “How are you fixing this?”

Sara gave a soft sigh, "I couldn't say," she replied, a non answer, and she frowned, "It's just been like this since… that battle," she elaborated further, "now, if I think of battle, or go to grasp anything with an edge to it," her hand began to tremble as Serah held it, and the cleric gave it another squeeze.

"I do still practise, even if not with a blade," Sara added, quietly, "those exercises memorized over decades of doing them while in training. Yet, there doesn't seem anything that can still these tremors," she gave a weak smile, "Just another way I can no longer help anyone. I can't hold a blade. I can't sing. It's almost poetic for an oathbreaker."

“Yes, that does seem counter-intuitive.” Serah glanced at the maiden lounging in the desk chair nearby, and back to Sara, “I am curious what you intend to do when we find her.”

“Whatever it is I can do,” Sara replied, “The others might expect me to lead them again, but how could I do that with all that happened? I…” she fell quiet a moment, her hand trembling, “I would be with them if I could, but like this… I would be a liability in battle, nothing more.”

Serah held her hand firmly, tilting her head to meet her eyes, “You sound scared,” and she smiled a bit more playfully than Sara may have expected from someone seemingly attempting to console her, “A very long time ago I talked to Kithran about fear, about how there isn’t much use for it among Shinara’s flock. And yet,” she pat the top of Sara’s hand with her free one, “we are but simple beings, prone to feel things we don’t intend to, some more deeply than we’d like, and some more crippling than we can stand.”

She laughed softly to herself, “As she so eloquently put it, as a much smaller, sopping wet twelve-year-old, fresh out of a well she had hopped into for fun, ‘fortune favors who it favors’. And that’s true. The Scarlett Mistress plays with us how she likes, all we are able to control are our actions and reactions.”

Serah finally let go of her hand and leaned back, “But, we do have to react. If you decide to run back home and hide, if you are afraid of being a hindrance in this fight, that’s fine, we will toss our own fates at the Mistress and see how she feels. We’ve done it for less, and many of us here have charged upon ourselves the well-being of that elusive girl. Though she has seemed to have more luck in shaking us than we have had in protecting her. I am sure you can understand the… frustration in that.”

She shook her head, then stared at the bladesinger for a long moment, “However, I don’t think that is what you want to do, is it? Perhaps you’re scared, but you don’t seem the type to cower. What would you like to do, Aranwen?”

“I’m… I’m terrified,” Aranwen admitted, looking down at her shaking hands, “That thought of failing them by my decision, by picking the path to our demise when I must choose where to walk, as I already have,” she grit her teeth, “And yet…” 

Her hands steadied as she drew breath, her golden eyes hardening as she thought through the words Serah gave to her, “... and yet, the thought of doing nothing is even worse.”

Aranwen leaned back, drawing another breath, “Have you a knife or something I might hold?”

The corner of Serah’s mouth turned upwards as she nodded to Serena. The tall maiden reached behind herself and produced a dagger, delicately holding it by the tip of the blade, offering Aranwen the hilt.

Aranwen reached forward with her right hand, and it began to tremble, but not nearly as much as it had been. She held her right wrist with her left hand to keep it still as she took the hilt in hand. Though the tip wavered as she grabbed it, she clenched her jaw as she brought the knife closer, holding it just over her lap, and the blade stilled with her hand. She exhaled in relief as she looked up from the blade to Serah and Serena, “Thank you.”

Serah wrapped her arms around the bladesinger, resting her head on her shoulder and staring once again at her hands, “Excellent, Aranwen! I knew you could do it. Take your time, but be persistent. Take it slow, but keep your resolve.”

Serena held a hand out again to retrieve the weapon, setting her other hand on Aranwen’s other shoulder in offering congratulations for her accomplishment, and met her eyes as well, “Good job, Aranwen. Serah can be, um,” she smiled, looking for a moment to the little cleric, and back to the bladesinger, “surprisingly abrasive, but she’s hardly ever wrong.”

Serah laughed, “Sure, yes, I am never wrong. Remember that the next time I offer you advice, Ser.” She leaned away from Aranwen, patting her back once more before dropping her hands to her lap, “How are you feeling now?”

There was a sharp knock at the door, but no time between the knock and the door opening before a Syl with oaken hair looked inside, “Sis? Are you here?,“ Admara asked, “Alice mentioned a Sara, and I just had to look. Oh, I’m sorry, Serah, Serena!” Admara bowed her head in apology, before her eyes settled on the red-haired, golden eyed Syl sitting on the bed, “Whoa, what’d you do with your hair, that looks cool!”

Aranwen looked up in shock at seeing her sister in the doorway, “Why are you here?” She stuttered in surprise, “You’re a long way from home, little sis.”

“What does it look like?” Admara gave a grin, “I’m joining the Maidens!”

Aranwen gave an exasperated sigh, her left hand going to her forehead, “You’re not even 50 yet,” she grumbled, before looking at Serah beside her, “Is this true?”

"As long as she never barges into my room unbidden again," Serah pointedly warned the young maiden, "then yes, she is welcomed here for as long as she pleases."

Admara brought her hands together in front of her as she leaned one way while tilting her head the other, giving off an innocent look as she bowed towards Serah, “I’m sorry,” she stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind her, “I just had to know if it was Ara.” Admara approached the bed, relief visible on her face as she looked Aranwen over, “You look more yourself, sis,” She smiled.

Aranwen nodded, “I think, I am starting to finally feel more myself,” she replied, giving a thankful smile to Serah, before standing to hug Admara. After untangling herself from her little sister, Aranwen looked to the other Maidens, “I’d best not linger too long, but I know my former pupil will be watching the doors of the Gamble; is there another way I should take?” She asked.

The other maidens stood up as well, “There is, yes. Would you like one of us to go with you? We’ve all had plenty of experience escorting new friends on their way.”

Aranwen paused as she considered it, “Yes, please,” She nodded, “I know I am not as familiar with Calestra’s streets as you are.”

“How are you feeling, Serena?”

The other maiden was already stretching, “Bored.”

Serah smiled, “Perfect. Do you have a spare cloak for… Sara, here?”

“I’m sure I can find something. I’ll be right back.” She moved around the others in the small room and slipped through the door.

The smaller maiden turned her grin back on Aranwen, “Are you much of a climber?”

“It’s been a long time, but I imagine I should still be able to make do,” Aranwen chuckled.

“She told me a lot about climbing trees when she wasn’t supposed to. It was a good inspiration,” Admara laughed under Aranwen’s icy gaze.

Serah snickered at their sibling interaction and nodded, walking toward the window near the desk, “As Alice may have mentioned, the temple can feel like a maze to those not used to its curves and diversions. There are several ways in and out, and several ways to get lost.” She opened her window, “It was through some great misfortune that we discovered this way out, which in turn has proven to be a means of escape, and sometimes sanctuary for many.”

She looked around the room from where she stood, and gave Aranwen a sad smile, “I suppose Kithran likely told you about her mentor, Tara, and what happened to her. This was her room, their room, and where Kithran found her the night, well...” she trailed off, “Tara was my best friend, and this,” she waved to the room at large, “this was the only way I could feel close to her again.” She took a breath, “Anyway, the bastard escaped through here, and in searching for him, we found this little route--simple, but full of shadows, and easy to hide, especially at night. Lucky you.”

Aranwen frowned a bit. With what Kithran had mentioned of Tara, it felt a bit strange; she hadn’t expected to find herself in this place so connected to her. She took a moment as she closed her eyes, holding a hand to her chest. She might not be a priestess, but she felt as though she wished to have known Tara as well.

Serah’s grin returned just as Serena came back through the door, a worn, dark green cloak in her hands, “We should hurry, Fortune knows how long it will take Esme to realize it’s gone.”

Aranwen chuckled, “Did you pick that up from Kithran, or Kithran pick that up from you?” She mused, idly wondering how much she’d need to worry about Admara picking up similar talents. With a grateful smile, she donned the cloak, before looking to Serah and readying herself to follow.

Serena scoffed, amused, "Tara taught us all. It was either catch on to her tricks, or be left cloakless and snackless forever." She drew her own cloak over her head and made her way to the window, "Have you all said your goodbyes?"

Admara quickly rushed forward to hug Aranwen once more, “I’ll be okay, little sis,” Aranwen offered, “Just try not to get too sticky fingers, okay?” She smirked, giving Admara a kiss on the forehead before she followed after Serena.

Alias: CC, or Copycat

A silvery-white haired nekomata woman, with cat ears, eyes, and two tails, often holding a playful smile that reveals those long incisors with which she can drink blood. At least, this is her usual form. She changes her appearance on whim or need, and can potentially appear as anyone. With their blood, she can even replicate their powers, to an extent, though she is not fond of doing so. Her dependency on blood infusions and drinking blood is one thing she cannot change, no matter how much she wishes... and it earns her the nickname Vampira to some. Needless to say, she hates that name

I haven't a clue what edition of M&M she was built for or PL, but the character sheet I have for her was made with 150 points, whatever that means...

Go ahead; what Morgana has in store, that'll come up after the battle with Adedre has begun, or at least when we enter those chambers

that particular song is one I've listened to a lot and kind of speaks to me on a personal level

I've always had an affinity towards characters who are robots or AI, so the lyrics have always felt like they are in reference to an AI being 'awoken' to thought and will and then 'she depends on you' just reiterating that it is more than an AI; it's a child that will become an independent being eventually but for right now is still but a child.

Anyhow... why are you talking about Morgana still having something up her sleeve? She's not still there, is she?

Pay no attention to the dolls following you.

Just wait, you can't hide from me

Afraid I'd be overcommitting if I added myself on to yet another game - I'm already in six or seven!

Really tempting to dust off CC and see what fun might be had with her, though......

It had been the first time in months that Sara walked amidst a crowd. She knew that she was still recognizable to those who knew her, but the faint feeling of anonymity from her flame tinted hair helped alleviate some of the apprehension of being here. Still, even as she wandered through the market, she could not help but stay on alert. Her golden eyes scanned the crowd around her regularly, not that she knew what she was looking out for.

The sheer variety of wares and people on the market streets was a sight to behold, and Aranwen's eyes were drawn to the shining steel of an arms merchant. The soft smile on her face faltered, and her hand trembled beside her. Shaking her head, she hurried past, occasionally asking passers-by for directions as she made her way to a small public garden, a simple shrine to Adaron.

"How long has it been?" Sara whispered, settling herself on to a wood carved bench.

She had no prayer to give since that dark cell, several months ago. But she was no priestess, nor did she have any delusions of being one. Still, it had been a long time. Aranwen withdrew the flame pin from her waistband, and clasped it between her hands, holding it close at her chest.

"Do you watch, Sae?" she asked, her voice soft, "I wonder what you would say, if you knew I took solace with your name. A small way for us to still be together, Sae and Ara, Sara... A way to keep me sane these past few months, as if one hand were held by you, the other by Ch'dau. So I wouldn't be lost. But even if I lose myself in memories, I never want to forget."

Aranwen fell silent a moment, before she sighed, "Adaron, please watch over her in the forest beyond."

Sara placed the pin beside the shrine, and she knelt before it for a quiet moment. As she closed her eyes and breathed, she tried to be calm, to relax, but there was a tension in her muscles and mind that would not go away. She’d find no peace here.

Her breath caught as she felt a cold steel blade beside her neck, and her pulse quickened as her mind began to race.

Be quick in your mind and your feet, Aranwen, and do not get caught.

“By your looks, you are… Galandel, am I right?”

Sara shook her head, keeping her gaze and sight averted from the woman who spoke, “Please stay your blade,” She stuttered, “There is no need for it.”

“You are not? And you do appear unarmed...” The blade at her throat moved away.

There was no second guessing. As soon as the blade was gone, Sara bolted.

“Hey! Stop!”

Sara shook her head once more, diving into the safety of the crowded streets of Calestra.

“Aranwen!”

Sara did not look back, nor react to the name being shouted. Some distance away, Sara sighed, leaning against a nearby wall as she caught her breath, “Too… too close,” She whispered.

She remembered her training well enough, and the protocols to be taken when interacting with a suspected deserter. The safety of the individual took precedence - anticipate a fight in the event they were hostile, disarm the deserter, and then question them or bring them some place to be questioned. Considering the length of her service thus far, and the skill in battle she was observed to have in the past, it was only natural for someone who suspected they saw her to be wary in the event that same skill were wielded against them. Perhaps if she were to explain everything… but in the end, she panicked, and more than that, she was afraid of what would happen.

Oathbreakers were punished with death.

That thought sent a shiver down Sara’s spine, and she shook her head. Better to avoid them, avoid that mess, until such a time as when she could say that she had reclaimed her oaths, and ultimately upheld them. If such a time ever happened.

She sighed, and forced the thought from her mind. She was Sara. She was in the city of commerce, and she had an opportunity to peruse the markets for anything she might decide to buy for their household, perhaps for Mhera, or perhaps even a souvenir for Ella. Sara rolled her eyes inwardly, somehow unconvinced Simon really offered her any gifts from how she saw him and Ella together. With that in mind, she returned to the market proper.

Sara took her time as she browsed the wares. She just needed to look the same as everyone else in the crowd, a feat made easier without armour or a blade to make her stand out. She eventually purchased a leather shoulder bag to replace the worn and overused one she saw Ella use, and several small jars to replace cracked ones.

Even still, as day began to fade into evening, the streets began to thin, and then Sara saw her pursuer. Recognition flickered across her face as she recognized the younger Syl, a woman she had helped in training many years prior. And as her golden eyes met their oaken ones, she quickly looked away, cursing inwardly at her frugal choice not to purchase the shawl she considered earlier that may have helped to hide her now. But there was no time to dwell on that now, she could only look to where she might move.

From where she stood, and the direction she was walking, the sounds that came from beyond the doors of the Long Gamble caught her attention. Sara hesitated a moment, but forced herself forward. Though she had never asked anything of Fortune's Dancer, not since that fateful day, she hoped that perhaps she might be fortunate enough to lose her old student inside those halls.

Stepping within the temple, Sara's footsteps were drowned out by the sounds of patrons inside. She took a quick look around from the entrance, not completely able to hide the desperation in her quick, uneven movements.

The main hall of Shinara’s temple opened into a vast room, packed even more densely than Calestra's marketplace, and far louder. Patrons crowded gambling tables and filled pathways, cheering or shouting in anger as their dice rolled or their cards were flipped. Laughter seemed to cut through the cacophony of sound on its own. Whether at some tale a friend had shouted to another, or at someone else’s fortune, good or bad, the sound of uninhibited joy and enthusiasm emanated throughout the temple. And with it, came the hope, the excitement, the eagerness to see what the Scarlett Mistress had in store for them next.

Dotted throughout the room, crimson-clad men and women joined in with their exuberant guests. Their garb varied slightly from person to person. A handful of the women wore robes like those Kithran had pointed out a long time ago, the robes of the Laughing Maidens; while others wore slightly different patterns and styles, those of the Spinning Stars, who ran the Long Gamble, and the Lovers of Fortune who tempted their lady’s favor at any chance they got. They all gambled, ran games, poured wine, and laughed along with the others, as well as protected their patrons when others became unruly.

Sara witnessed this first hand as a couple, apparently upset with their lack of fortune, threw their wine glasses to the ground and began shouting at the young Spinning Star running their game. Like clockwork, two men in Shinara’s colors ushered the couple toward where Sara stood by the door, while a matching man and woman swept in to pick up the mess before anyone got hurt.

As one of the men speaking with the couple they were escorting toward the door passed Sara, he did a double-take, glancing her up and down quickly before looking back into the hall and nodding to someone else. Any uncertainty that may have washed over her at the gesture was met immediately by the two women in crimson robes who appeared before her. One, tall and broad-shouldered, with long blond hair, looked beyond Sara, either at the group heading out the door or at something past them. The other, rosy-cheeked, and her orange hair piled atop her head, leaned in to address her calmly, though earnestly, above the sound of the hall.

“I’m Alice, a Laughing Maiden, would you like to go some place quieter?” She leaned back again and jerked her head to the right, toward a hallway leading out of the main hall.

"Ah, uh," Sara's gaze turned briefly towards the Stars that had wandered past her, a sense of unease settling beneath her breast. What was in that look he had? Recognition? Yet, she was in the hall of Fortune's Dancer, was she not? Perhaps it was the location, perhaps it was Kithran's memory rubbing off on her, but she decided to take the risk. She turned back to Alice and nodded, "That sounds good," she agreed, "I've never been here before. It's a bit overwhelming," she admitted.

Alice gave her a genuine smile, “I still feel that way too sometimes.” She turned toward the hall, “Come, follow me. Oh,” she touched the arm of the other, taller woman, whose eyes were still on the entrance, “and this is Serena, she’ll be following us, if that’s alright.” And with that the maiden spun around and waded through the crowd, glancing back every now and again to ensure she hadn’t lost Sara, and sticking as close to the wall as she could get, until finally squeezing through the last swath of patrons and emerging into the smaller, quieter hallway.

The orange-haired maiden laughed lightly as Sara stumbled through, much as she had herself, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but...” She shrugged, as though perhaps she had, “I am fairly new here, at least in comparison to our Serena,” despite her size, the tall maiden slipped into the hall with little effort, “so it’s nice to see someone else share in the joys of traversing the Gamble.” She turned and gestured Sara to walk with her down the hall.

“There are several little rooms and nooks hidden throughout the temple, if you know where to look, including along this hallway here. It’s actually kind of a maze sometimes, but it does make for a nice way to, say, lose people, if you’re in search of some peace.”

"Truly?" Sara blinked as she looked along the hallway, taking in a brief glimpse of the number of pathways that branched off of the main path, "That's incredible. Like the extent of a forest put into a building," she smiled.

"Hah, yeah, I never thought of it like that, but you're absolutely right." Alice looked up at the golden-eyed Sylvari as they walked, “So, what brings you to the L--oh! I am so sorry, I was so focused on helping you get out of--what’s your name?”

"Ah, yes, my name is Sara."

"Sara?" Alice repeated, making sure she had heard right.

“Yes?” A voice called from down one of the smaller hallways to their left, “Just a moment.” After some shuffling, a short, blond woman with her hair up in a ponytail, and clad in a plain dress emerged from the hall, “You only need to call once, you know. Anyhow, did you need something? Oh, hello,” she said, eyeing Sara, and then the other two, before some sort of understanding came over her and she held out a hand, “I am Serah, a Laughing Maiden and cleric of Shinara. And who are you?”